


won me over in spite of me

by CrypticVirago



Series: heart made of glass (mind of stone) [4]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Gavin Is Jealous, M/M, Nines notices, RK900 is Nines, a little bit of falling in love. just a little, and a little sad, because he's a sweetie, we're getting there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-18 01:22:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16107824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrypticVirago/pseuds/CrypticVirago
Summary: Injured officers always got little welcome back bashes when they returned from leave. Donuts, coffee, pats on the shoulder and 'good to have you back'. Gavin never got any of that shit. It's his own fault, really. He has a shitty attitude and he knows it. That doesn't mean it doesn't bother him.And of course, his partner is too perceptive for him to be able to hide it.





	won me over in spite of me

_You've already won me over in spite of me_

_And don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet_

_And don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are._

_I couldn't help it. It's all your fault_

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t too often that an officer was injured on the job nowadays, but it wasn’t like it was the rarest thing in the world. It didn’t happen often enough that the DPD had a specific finance pool made for the little ‘parties’ that were for those that came back after being on injured leave.

Officer Person had broken her leg when she’d gotten into a chase with a suspect, fibula snapped in two and fractures on her tibia. She’d had to have surgery – a plate against her fibula to align it, six screws and a long-leg cast had been her recovery for the past nine weeks, and she was only allowed to return for desk work, a boot and crutches in tow.

The welcome back party wasn’t a whole lot, if he was honest. It was really just a laid out breakfast, like it always was – an overabundance of sugar and carbs. It was all stuff that you could buy at the nearest convenience store, but it had donuts and coffee, and that was really all Gavin cared about. For once in his life, he was glad that he got to work early, because he was able to get dibs on the iced ones. The kind that was covered in sugary processed icing and mass manufactured sprinkles that mostly tasted like chalk. Maybe there was some kind of weird truth to the whole ‘cops love donuts’ thing, because every one of these welcome back bashes had a surplus of them, but they still got gone before most people got seconds. ‘Most people’ translated to the newbies. Gavin had learned quickly that if you wanted more than one, you had to take them while they were available.

Predictably, Gavin had taken the three available iced donuts, hoarded them at his desk without an ounce of shame. That, and coffee, made exactly to his liking, and it was by far the most sugar loaded breakfast he has ever had. All this before eight in the morning.

And at 7:54, in walks the Andersons.

Okay, maybe Connor wasn’t technically an Anderson, and neither was Nines, but it was funnier to call them the Andersons in his head only because it made them sound like some shitty sitcom family from the 20th century. Like the Jeffersons, or the Griffiths, or something equally ridiculous.

After two weeks, Gavin still had no clue why Nines still decided to wear the DPD uniform. It wasn’t specifically required unless you were a patrol officer, which Nines most definitely wasn’t, and none of the other detective’s wore anything other than what they wanted. Which, for Gavin, meant the same old leather jacket – it was broken in now, all soft and comfortable – and the same set of grey shirts that made his closet look like a rack at a department store.

But after those two weeks, Gavin had stopped the ‘ken-doll’ insult, because, at some point, he found that Nines looked really fucking good in uniform. Fuck no, he didn’t have some fucking kink. He certainly did not. And like fuck was he attracted to Nines. No way in hell.

At 7:56, Nines parts with Connor and Hank, and makes his way to his desk. Once he sits down, Gavin knows that the android is analyzing the cheap paper plate of donuts on his desk, cued by the brief yellow spin of his LED.

“Good morning, Detective Reed,” Nines greets, and he smiles. It’s not really a smile, not really. His mouth doesn’t stretch the same way Connor’s does, a smile that makes the RK800 look welcoming and cheerful. The RK900 wasn’t designed the same way, Gavin thinks, because his smile doesn’t pull up at the corners. Regardless, there was always ‘it’s the thought that counts’, right? “It is good to see Officer Person’s back.”

“Mm, yeah,” Gavin mumbles, around a mouthful of donut. “What does it matter to you? You don’t talk to her.”

“Even if I don’t converse with her regularly, she’s still an important officer within the station,” Nines answers. Gavin’s a bit thankful that he doesn’t comment on anything regarding his choice of breakfast, but somehow, that makes it so much worse.

Yeah, sure. It’s nice that Person is back. It wasn’t like Gavin ever talked to her, hell, there were a lot of people that he didn’t talk to, and those people weren’t too keen on speaking with him either. He didn’t bother Person, Person didn’t bother him. Neutral parties. Whatever.

Person was at her desk, sitting at an awkward angle in her chair to keep her leg stretched out. Brown and Wilson were close by, the latter of which was bringing her a plate of donuts and a coffee, obviously in an attempt to keep her from walking too much. The injured officer smiled gratefully, and though Gavin was too far away to hear what they were saying, he could read lips well enough to understand her obvious expression of thanks. Person was nice enough, he guesses. He’s never had many conversations with her, but regardless of his abysmal attitude, she still maintained a superficial politeness. Even Tina went over, clapping her on the back with a wide grin, saying something to her that makes Person smile right back.

There had been times when Gavin had been injured on the job, sure. Once he’d gotten shot in the stomach, a dangerously close call that had kept him in the hospital for too damn long in his opinion because the doctors were worried about intestinal tearing. That had been a bitch and a half; he still had the scar to look at and replay the _fond_ memories of that day. When he’d gotten back, there’d been no welcome back party waiting for him, just Tina and her ever present friendship that sometimes still mystified Gavin. Nobody else had said a word to him, save for Anderson, who’d had some snide comment about not being dead after all.

Person got a welcome back party. Of course she did. She was friendly to everyone, in that surface level way that made Gavin suspect it was just niceties, while after work she went back home and trash talked every one of her coworkers. Still, she was well liked, and might as well be public relations while she was at it.

Ben had gotten a welcome back party when he had a heart attack two years ago. Chris had gotten a welcome back party whenever he’d needed some time to recover from being held hostage in Capitol Park during the revolution. He hadn’t been injured, but a brush with death to a young officer that just had a kid is bound to mess up your mental state a bit.

People got welcome back parties all the time. So why – ?

“Detective Reed?” He’s broken out of his reverie by an ever patient voice. Nines is looking at him, and fuck if the thing doesn’t look _concerned._ “Are you alright? You look… sad.”

There was a brief moment where Gavin’s first thought is on why the fuck Nines had even been looking at him, followed almost immediately by embarrassment. “The fuck are you talking about?” he starts, instinctually reaching for confrontation in place of any kind of genuine emotional vulnerability (because he’s Gavin. What else would he do?) “I don’t look like fuckin’ anything.”

Gavin hopes that he’ll leave the topic be, but there’s no such luck for him. He probably used all his luck up years ago and now he was just running on borrowed time. Instead, Nines tilts his head, eyebrows turning down, and now there isn’t any doubt that he looks concerned. “Is it because of the attention that Officer Person is receiving?” Nines asks quietly.

“Like I said, it’s not fuckin’ anything,” Gavin attempts to dismiss. “Why do you care? It doesn’t fuckin matter.”

“You _are_ upset, detective,” Nines insists. “You remember that I can read your heartrate and blood pressure and can determine when you’re lying. What’s the matter?”

Of course he couldn’t get off that easy. It was never that easy. “I’m telling you, it’s nothing,” he insists, and now he’s actually starting to get pissed. “Fuck the _fuck_ off already.”

There’s a long moment of silence from the other side of him, and for a while, he actually thinks that maybe, maybe he’s gonna get lucky. The same kind of lucky that meant picking up somebody at a bar or being the thousandth customer in line a store, where you got some gift card for fifty bucks worth of groceries. But it’s never that easy. Of course it isn’t, and by this point Gavin really ought to learn not to get his hopes up.

“I ask because I care about you, Detective Reed,” Nines continues, and his voice is not only quiet, but it’s _soft._ There’s genuine concern and of course, Gavin doesn’t know how the fuck to react to something like that. “Are you perhaps jealous at the attention that Person has received upon returning from her injury?”

“ _No_ , no that’s not fuckin –”

“Detective, I can tell when you’re lying.”

“Stop _scanning_ me already!” Gavin almost yells, keeping himself from slamming his fist against his desk. The last thing he wants is eyes on him, especially because he can feel the embarrassed flush on his face. He knows that Nines can see it plainly, and that just makes him feel worse. “I’m just… it’s just – ” Why the fuck was he even bothering with this? It wasn’t like it mattered. It wasn’t like Nines cared. It wasn’t like Gavin mattered much anyway. “When people come back from injured leave they get this shit. I don’t get that. Hell, nobody says shit to me except for Chen.”

“Maybe that has something to do with your behavior,” Nines suggests, and even if it’s a callout, it doesn’t sting like one. “You rub a lot of people within the station the wrong way. But that is not to say I don’t understand your feelings. It can be difficult to not feel appreciated, especially in a place where you have put forth considerable effort to be welcome.”

There was something that made Gavin think that the android was speaking from personal experience, and there was just the briefest touch of shame before Gavin can think of some kind of retort. “The hell are you, some kind of shrink?”

Nines tilts his head again, in that weirdly annoying and yet somehow endearing way. “I’m not a licensed psychologist, but that doesn’t mean I can’t do research of my own. I do have access to an online database of information.”

“Research?” Gavin mutters before he can stop himself. “You’ve been doing research on me?”

“Not you in particular, detective. Just because I’m not human doesn’t mean I can’t seek good advice from human psychologists.”

The implications of that statement make Gavin laugh. “You?” he scoffs, almost unable to believe it. “You’ve got to go get a psychiatrist. That’s un-fucking-believable.” The frown on Nines’ face makes Gavin almost – _almost_ – regret his choice of words. The damn android looks hurt by his statement.

“It’s not that I seek out a psychiatrist in person, but as I said, there’s a wealth of information online,” Nines responds.

“What could you possibly need therapy for?” Gavin laughs, and he’s an idiot, really, for not realizing.

“Mostly due to you, detective.” Nines’ answer is entirely honest from what Gavin can tell, and his LED swirls yellow with what Gavin has now come to realize is a concerning color. The expression on Gavin’s face must have certainly been something, because Nines has to look away. “Not in the way you’re thinking. You haven’t inflicted any kind of severe psychological damage. It’s just…”

“It’s just what?” Gavin prods and is surprised at the flatness of his voice.

“Since becoming your partner, I’ve been trying to relate to you, but it just seems to be becoming more difficult. I… I _want_ you to like me. I want to be able to work together with you as cohesively as Connor and Lieutenant Anderson. I thought if I looked into the psychology of the human mind, maybe I could find some way to…” At this point, Nines trails off, and he looks a bit sheepish.

“So you’ve been… trying to be some kind of amateur psychiatrist… because you want me to like you?” Gavin surmises, and it sounds incredibly ridiculous, to his own ears.

“I want to be able to understand you,” Nines amends. “I think you’re an extraordinary detective, and in some sense, I count myself lucky to be your partner. I just would rather the animosity between us not continue. And if there’s something I can do to make that happen, I will do it. …within reason, of course.”

Yup. It’s incredibly ridiculous… But at the same time, it’s rather… endearing, if only due to the fact that no one before had taken the time to even bother trying that shit. Hell, no one’s bothered to tell him he’s halfway decent at his job save for Fowler on a handful of occasions, but mostly when he was trying to butter up Gavin for something that he knew the detective wasn’t going to like.

“You really mean that shit,” Gavin mutters, and he’s amazed at how astonished he sounds.

“Of course I do, detective,” Nines answers, and he’s honest. So _fucking_ honest. And then he smiles again, that weird, odd looking smile that only someone like Nines can pull off.

A smile that makes Gavin fall just a little bit in love.

**Author's Note:**

> Work title from "Head Over Feet" by Alanis Morissette.


End file.
